


Baby, Baby

by faliceplease



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 15:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faliceplease/pseuds/faliceplease
Summary: My take on what happened to Charles Smith.





	Baby, Baby

Chic held his arms around himself as he moved quickly through the hallway of the hostel. He was mostly trying to get by as quickly and quietly as possible. He made it to the end of the hall before fumbling around his pocket for his key. He opened the door with ease, expecting to find the room empty since he hadn’t heard from Charles in a few hours. He was wrong when he arrived. The other male was sitting down on their bed sobbing quietly to himself. Chic locked their door up and double checked that nobody could get in before he moved quickly toward the crying man. “Did he hurt you?” He questioned, frowning as he gave him a once over. He didn’t look psychically injured, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. 

Charles shook his head. He didn’t wipe away his tears. He just ran his fingers through his curls, looking up at the blonde. “I went to Riverdale today.” He said quietly, already knowing that Chic wouldn’t like hearing that. 

Chic let out an annoyed sound. He took his jacket off and removed all of the drugs he had stashed away in his pockets. “I told you not to do that!” He snapped after he had set everything down on his desk. “They don’t want anything to do with people like us, they’re just going to hurt you. I told you that. I already warned you.” He reminded him frantically. 

Charles nodded his head. He didn’t want him to be right but he had been. The woman who was his mother, she had just turned him down so easily. She didn’t give him a chance to speak, just took one look at him, his ragged clothing and messy hair. She just told him she wasn’t interested in whatever he wanted from her, and closed the door. He knew she probably didn’t know who he was, but if that was the way she treated anyone who wasn’t perfectly dressed up, or living in a big fancy house, then Chic wasn’t as wrong as he wished he would be. “She closed the door in my face.” He whispered out, hiding his face in his hands this time. 

Chic nodded his head. He didn’t want to be right but he often was. He knew how to read people, it’s how he fended for himself for so long. He moved to sit down on the mattress next to him. This wasn’t something he was good at. He could comfort clients who paid him to be whoever they wanted him to be, but this was different. This was real, and someone he cared for. He moved one of Charles’ hands from his face so he could cup his cheek with one of his own. “You don’t need them. You have me.” He pointed out quietly. He knew that wasn’t the same thing but it was all he could offer at this point. 

“Don’t leave me.” Charles whimpered out, hoping that he could count on the one constant in his life. He knew Chic wasn’t the greatest person in the world, but he was all he had. Everybody else saw him as damaged goods, and not in a good way. Chic was the one person who saw his flaws and celebrated them. He was every bit as messed up as he was, even more so. 

Chic nodded his head and took his hand. He turned Charles’ palm over and fingered his scars carefully. His own were imitations of the other boy’s. He had many other scars on his body, most were self inflicted, some were from his many entanglements with shady people. He was a survivor, he hurt people and got hurt, but he was still standing. He didn’t think there was anyone who could truly knock him down at this point. “I’m not going anywhere.” He assured him. “But you might want to move out of the shot soon, unless you want to join the show?” He teased, nodding toward his laptop that was set up. He had a client to entertain online and Charles wasn’t entirely comfortable with the whole thing. He didn’t care though. He wasn’t going to quit. 

Charles sat up and wiped his eyes on his t’shirt. He scooted down to the end of the bed and stepped away from it so he could find his iPod with the intention of sitting in the corner and listening to music instead. Chic walked over to his desk and switched on his computer. He didn’t mind that Charles was in the room, he never did. It was just a job to him. He wasn’t embarrassed by it at all. 

* 

Charles only opened his eyes when Chic yanked his earphones out. The other male was crouched down in front of him just waiting for him to take notice. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He told him, smiling at the blonde. Chic nodded his head. It didn’t matter much anymore. 

“We’re going out.” He told him before glancing over at the window. It was getting dark outside. The sun was setting and that meant Chic wanted to get out. This place was the creepiest at night time. That’s why he liked to stay out most of the night, crawl home by morning just to sleep away half the day. 

Charles paused his music and wrapped the chord of his headphones around his device. It was a few generations behind the newest update but it still played music so he was happy with it. “Where are we going? He asked, meeting Chic’s eyes curiously. 

Chic grinned before he stood up and moved away from him. “Just a party.” He answered with a shrug. He moved back toward his desk and shoved his narcotics back into his jacket pocket before he slipped his arms through the sleeves. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” He told him, acting as though he was sad about that. He was some, but not nearly as much as he was playing out. He was good at changing people’s minds. He just needed to make them feel sorry for him. It worked all too well with his boyfriend who didn’t like hurting his feelings. 

Charles pushed himself up and shook his head. “No I can come.” He assured him, smiling across at Chic whose face lit up as soon as he confirmed that he wanted to go out. They didn’t do it that often. Not together. Chic was always out but he preferred to just stay in and read, or do anything that didn’t involve too many people. 

*

As Charles expected the party was filled with people he didn’t know, nor did he care to know. Couples were already pairing off in half naked embraces, illegal substances were being consumed in every corner, and discarded bottles and cans of alcohol were littering the floor amongst the empty pizza boxes and whatever else he didn’t care to know about. He might fit in more with this crowd than the people his biological family knew, but that didn’t mean he loved every part of this environment. Chic disappeared to snort a line of coke in one of the other rooms. He didn’t have much else to do other than blend in. He grabbed himself a drink and stood near a couple of other guys he vaguely recognised. This party hadn’t started tonight. People had been there since Friday, maybe even before then. It was Saturday night now and he wouldn’t doubt that half of the people in the room were aiming to last until the following afternoon. He clutched the neck of his can and wandered through to the kitchen to try and find Chic so he didn’t have to be entirely alone in a house full of people. 

Chic wasn’t a very open person so of course he hadn’t told his boyfriend about what trouble he was into. Charles knew nothing about the money he owed to several people. He didn’t know all that much about him, whilst at the same time he probably knew the most out of anyone. When Charles walked in, Chic didn’t notice him at first. When he did he smiled over at him, graciously inviting him over with a wave, giving him room to stand close by him. It wasn’t long before Charles was as high as he was and the real party began. 

** 

Chic had felt real fear several times in his life. The first being when he was held at gunpoint at fifteen years old. It varied in extremity from then until this point. This was a different fear he possessed. The fear of loss, the fear of something being no more. When he was forced to let go of Charles’ fingers as they dragged him away. He felt the greatest fear he’s ever faced. He watched as they closed the door of the ambulance and drove away, leaving him numb and alone in the street outside of the house. The party was a bust after the poor boy had started to change colour, when everyone knew the fun was no more. He would have died if they didn’t call. That’s what Chic kept screaming at the people who were upset with him for ruining the party. He didn’t know if Charles was going to make it, but he was sure as hell hoping he would pull through. 

It wasn’t his fault. He kept telling himself that. He felt anger pulse through his body as he paid for the cab that took him home. He couldn’t face being at the hospital. He would go in the morning. He would check to see if he was okay then. He was still high, he didn’t want to deal with the questions or accusations. He didn’t make Charles do anything. He never did. It wasn’t his fault. It was that stupid family of his who turned him away. They were to blame. The ones who made him the way he was. The addict, the lost little abandoned child. They did this to him. He didn’t. 

He went to bed angry, and woke up feeling like hell. Charles walked in after noon. He wasn’t meant to leave the hospital yet but he had no insurance and didn’t want to stick around waiting for them to realise that. He walked through the door of their room and switched on the light. Chic jumped up even though he felt like shit. “Where the hell were you?” Charles asked him in a hurt tone. Chic played with the pillow case of the pillow he had in his arms. “I couldn’t be there. You know that.” He told him, shaking his head dismissively.


End file.
